The Edge of Insanity
by Pantrimance
Summary: A young yet experienced mobster finds himself dealing with the Joker and his own mind as he is subjected to mental and physical torture. Will he succumb to insanity? Or will Batman turn him around like he has to many of the troubled citizens of Gotham City? Please leave a review whether you enjoyed the story or not. Every bit of criticism helps!
1. Chapter 1

Gotham City was once called "the City of Opportunity," by Thomas Wayne. Now it's a hell hole crawling with demons and maybe even the devil himself. People are killed, raped, and taken captive for the paper in their wallets and sometimes just for the fun of it. Children mourn their parents and parents mourn their children. People are torn apart daily with the reality of what Gotham is. It's not a city with cheerful people and endless possibilities like Thomas Wayne wanted it to be. It's a death-trap who invites everyone, old or young, black or white, to join the fun of a killing-spree or a robbery on the lives of the innocent.

My name is Vincent. I've lived in Gotham my entire life. I've seen all of the things previously mentioned happen right before my eyes. Occasionally, I'm the culprit of these heinous acts. I have been in gangs nearly my entire life. In the sixth grade I was beaten to a bloody pulp, but the fact that I beat the others to a pulp as well is the reason I was allowed to join. I usually sell drugs for extra cash since my criminal record would never allow me a decent job. I also make extra money by giving the drugs I come across to the gang leader. We call him Doozie. No one knows his real name. All we know is he's been a resident of Gotham his whole life, too.

I don't have a girlfriend anymore; I used to. Her name was Ginger and she was a pretty girl, but she wasn't gang material. One night when I was taking her out to eat, I had to do a quick deal of fifteenth street. She stayed in the car, oblivious to what was happening. Anyway, the deal went bad, someone pulled Ginger out of the car and stabbed her to death. I shot the guy who did it, but they got away. I guess Ginger did, too, in a way.

My parents were also killed. My father died in a drunk-driving crash. The drunk got off for it. My mother was suffocated in her bedroom when I was thirteen. Whoever did that also got away. I lived with my aunt until she had a stroke and died when I was sixteen. I finally moved in with a friend of mine who was also in the gang, but he decided to go straight and was beat over the head with a crowbar. He lasted two days in the ICU before croaking. Now I have my own place, and it'll stay that way.

With all of that said, it's a wonder I'm still alive. But I am for some reason. I've tried to die a few times. Once after my mother's death and once after Ginger's. Now I just try to numb myself with cocaine and booze. It's really the only way I know how to make my life subside for a while. Unfortunately, like everything, there are side effects. After the high or drunkenness wears off I'm sicker than a dog. Extremely violent vomiting, horrible migraines, and unbearable stomach cramping. Although this sounds awful, it's probably why I still do it. I've always had an attraction to physical pain. I was the kid who cut himself when he broke a glass or the kid that jumped off something much too high just to see if he could really break his legs.

Now that I'm an official addict and gang-banger, there's really nowhere to go, but up...hopefully.

At around three-thirty in the morning Doozie called me personally and asked me to meet with him at the Spot. The Spot is just an old warehouse on the Gotham Shore. It's where the gang usually meets for stuff. I made it there around four-ten. Doozie was smoking a cigarette and looking at his watch that he probably stole. Doozie is a Hispanic dude. He's kind of short and overweight. He has a goatee and larger nose. He wears a do-rag and has gang tattoos from head to toe. The tattoo that you recognize him by is the capitol D on his right cheekbone.

"Let's talk, Vince," Doozie said.

"What about?" I asked.

"There's somethin' funny goin' on in the drug house," he said. The drug house is just another warehouse down south. It's where most of Doozie's drugs are hidden, hundreds of pounds might I add, so no one can steal them before they're sold. Only Doozie, Jimmy, and I know the whereabouts of it. "I don't think you'd be the one to screw off on me, but Jimmy's been actin' funny. I wanna know what that freak is up to and when you find out…" Doozie reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun and held it out to me. "…deal with him accordingly…got it?"

"Yeah," I said grabbing the gun.

"But I gotta warn you," he continued. "Everyone's been talkin' about the Bat. He's been out a lot lately."

"So I've heard," I replied. "I'll keep an eye out and get this all figured out for."

"I knew ya would, Vince."

Of course everywhere you go you're watching out for other gangs, possible threats, snitches, fakers like undercover cops, and then you have to watch out for the Batman. I don't know what happened to that dude when he was a kid that he thinks flying around the city in a cape is going to fix things. Look at what happened to me and I'm not in a suit beating up gang members. He really is a freak.

I made it to the drug house and I heard some ruckus inside. It was closed up like it should be. I wondered if maybe someone found it and had been taking the drugs for themselves. I went around back where a rotting wood latter was at. It went up to the window, but it was so bad looking no one ever got on it but me. It looked a lot worse than it was; it held my weight fine. I climbed to the top and peeked through the dirty old window. I could see the beams of flash lights scanning the inside. It was more than just Jimmy in there, if that was even him inside. There were five guys, all of them I could not make out who they were. They were looking under the coke bags, instead of inside them. One of the guys used his flash light to look up and saw me in the window. I quickly moved my head out of sight. I could hear them whispering. I climbed down from the latter and moved around to the side of the building, away from the door.

I heard the screeching of the rusty door sliding open. I ducked down and grabbed the gun from the inside of my black leather jacket. I cocked it and aimed in front of me. It was pitch black, so I would have to listen more than I watched. A guy came creeping around, just as blind as I was. He flicked on his flash light pointing away from me and I grabbed him, putting my hand over his mouth. He started squirming around. I threw him on the ground and point my gun at his face.

"If you make a sound," I whispered. "I'll shoot you where you lay." I grabbed the flash light to get a better look at him. Gangs always wear something that relates to their gang, like me and my leather jacket. This dude was wearing clown make-up and a striped sweater.

"Clowns," I scoffed. There was a lot hoopla about the Joker in this city, but most of the clowns walking around just wanted to be like the guy, they weren't actually associated with him. They were also the weakest. They had no idea about what a real gang was, they just assumed wearing make-up and dressing similar to one another made them one. They were a joke, no pun intended.

I decided since this guy was probably just a whimp I told him to stay put and be quiet or I'd kill him. However, this dude had more guts than the others. He immediately got his round body off the concrete and started running towards the street. I shot him in the leg, which alerted the rest of them, but they weren't a threat to me. The rest of them came through the front and saw the guy crying on the ground. I didn't worry about them seeing me in the dark. Most of them were making a big deal of it, trying to be quiet. They all had their flash lights pointed at him. One guy even said,

"The Bat's carrying guns now!" I could help my chuckle at that. I heard another chuckling over the same thing. His chuckle turned into a maniacal laughter.

"Batman doesn't carry guns," his voice said. "He carries a coach purse, instead," he chuckled to himself. I saw him kneel down to the man, the light revealed a purple hat and pale white face. He looked up at the others to tell them something revealing red lips, yellow teeth and eyes, and strangely long, pointy features.

"It's him," I whispered. The Joker pulled out a hand gun and stood up.

"Poor dog," he said and then shot the wounded man in the head. "Alright boys, let's get this finished and then we'll get some tacos! How 'bout it?" He laughed the same way he had before.

"What about Larry?" one goon asked.

"Who's that?" Joker asked. "Oh! The dead guy! It's too late for him, sorry."

"Who shot 'im?"

"Who cares! I'm hungry." They all walked back into the building and I snuck around and tried to peek through the crack in the door. They were still fishing around.

I thought the Joker to be pretty dumb not to find out who shot one of his men, but counted it as lucky on my part. I slid the door open as quietly as I could and went around the broken, wooden staircase where it was the darkest. I aimed and fired at another goon. He hit the floor and the others started hollering and waving their flash lights in a panic.

"It's the Bat!" one started yelling.

"You pathetic baffoons!" Joker yelled in his cracky voice. "It isn't him! He doesn't use guns!"

I shot one more down, head shot. Joker pulled out his gun and told the others to start searching around. I heard someone close to me, so I began to move to the other wall, that way I could get a good shot at him. He saw me, however, and pulled out his gun quickly before I got mine in the air to shoot. A gun went off and I jumped back. The guy fell at my feet.

"Whoops!" Joker yelled. "Sorry, Jeff!" he chuckled.

"I'm Jeff, boss," the man next to him said. Joker looked over and shot him in the face.

"It's just me and you!" Joker yelled. "Don't judge me by my looks, I really am not that great." I shot at him and hit his arm. He started to grind his teeth but never even grabbed his arm. He aimed his gun at me. I knew he could see me, the only thing was to shoot him before he could shoot me. We both shot, I took a bullet to the chest. I fell against the wall, but tried to stay on my feet as he approached me. I lifted my gun up, fighting for breath.

"I bet that hurts," he said. I pulled the trigger…out of bullets. I dropped the gun, trying desperately to breathe. I fell to the ground in a puddle of my own blood. I looked up and saw the Joker hovering over me. "Sleep it off, kid. I know lots of people who have survived being shot…oh, wait. No I don't!" I passed out listening to him laugh evilly.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke to an icy cold sensation and a deep pain in my chest. It took me a few minutes to remember what had happened. When I finally came to I realized I was lying on a steel medical table in some sort of building. It wasn't a warehouse, instead it looked like a rundown circus. I tried to sit up and fight the pain, but I became light headed and fell back on the table with a thud. Breathing became a chore all too quickly and I wondered how I was still alive after taking a bullet to the chest without medical attention. I've been shot before, but never in such a dangerous spot, and one way or another, an ambulance arrived and took me to the emergency room. This time I was in some weird place with what seemed to be just a bandage covering my wound.

I heard the footsteps of someone and I tried to get up and hopefully get away before whoever it was got to me. I just wanted to be done with this. I killed everyone, but the Joker himself. I considered that enough protection for the drug house for now. I wanted to leave and go home and tell Doozie everything was fine and to let Jimmy off the hook. No such luck did I find because by the time I had fought the aching enough to sit up my heart was pounding and I felt light headed again. I couldn't continue to sit up unless I wanted to vomit.

"Lay down, sugah," a high-pitched voice said. I looked over and saw a woman with pale white skin, a black mask and black shoe on one foot and a red one on the other. She was dressed in a trampy nurse outfit, with the little hat and the thigh-high panty hose.

"Who are you?" I demanded. I had to lie back down, but I tried to prop myself up on my elbow.

"Call me, Hawley…Hawley Quinn." Beneath that thick Boston accent I understood what she said. Harley Quinn, the Joker's female counterpart. From what I've heard, she's just as crazy as the Joker and just as obsessed over the whole clown get-up.

"What do you want from me?" I demanded yet again. "Why am I here?"

"You've been shot. A little mishap with Mistah J. is all. It happens sometimes…" she answered. "But not to worry, sweethawt. I dabbled in the medical field for quite some time. I got ya all fixed up."

"Let me go! Now!"

"Ya can't leave!" she hollered. "Ya much too frail! Ya gotta stay here until that hole is all healed up…and maybe even longah. Dependin' on what Doctah J. says."

"Who's Doctor J.?" I asked.

"Why that's me, my boy!" said a familiar voice. The Joker walked up to the table, how he got to me I didn't see. He was wearing a white coat with white pants a light strapped to his head like a doctor from the fifties. "Doctor J., at your service," he said bowing dramatically. "Now listen, my boy. That wound is a lot deeper than it looks. It needs a little TLC…which is going to be very painful and you probably won't live to see it healed. BUT! I have decided to donate to you all of my superior medical skills and take the risk of killing you to fix you up. Understand?"

"Just let me go and I swear I won't say anything about the drug house," I bargained.

"I think that's a yes, Nurse Harley!" Harley started clapping and giggling. "Alright, let's begin," he said. Harley started strapping me to the table. I swung my arm at her but the Joker caught it and held me down. I was much too weak to fight him off. I was then strapped to the table, unable to move. My heart was racing from the fear I was feeling. I knew this would not be pretty. I had heard so many stories of people dying awful deaths because of the two weirdoes. I didn't want to be another story.

"The patient is ready for surgery, doctah," Harley said.

"Excellent," the Joker grinned. "Get the torch, please." Harley came back with a small blow torch. The Joker lit it up to see if it was working. "Now whatever you do, my boy, don't move." Harley removed the bandage from my chest and the Joker approached me with the torch.

"Get away from me!" I yelled. They both just grinned with pleasure at my fear. "Get away!"

The Joker took the torch to my wound, searing the already tender flesh. I screamed in anguish.

"Hmmm," he sounded. "I think we need to go a bit deeper. What do you think, Nurse Harley?"

"I'll get the scalpel!" I heard her digging through a drawer and when she returned she had a machete. "I couldn't find the scalpel, puddin', so I got this, instead."

"Now, Miss Harley, please be professional. We don't want people to get the wrong idea about us."

"Or do we?" she asked leaning over the table. They giggled and rubbed their noses together while he scratched the underside of her chin.

"Now make a small incision right through the wound, nurse." She slid the edge machete roughly across my open sore. I gritted my teeth the entire time. Once she was finished, the blade had my blood smeared across it and then the Joker started torching my skin again. The only way to describe such a painful sensation is the tips of a thousand cigarettes were all being put out on my bullet hole wound at the same time, filling the air with the smell of burnt flesh and flame.

"Looks like we're all done here. You should be better in no time, sir," the Joker smiled. Harley had a piece of paper in her hand, she peeled off smiley face sticker from it and stuck it to my cheek. "Aw, how kind, Nurse Harley. Isn't she a sweety?"

"What's….wrong with you…people?" I managed.

"Now, now," the Joker continued. "Don't be so rude. I'll give you a nice sedative to take the edge off….or stop your heart!" He then busted out laughing. He grabbed a syringe and stuck me with the needle and injected into me some kind of liquid. I was afraid it was something not made to be injected into humans. I figured I would not wake up again, but maybe that's a good thing.

Soon after the injection I began to dose off. Joker and Harley started picking everything up and they left arm-in-arm. I had never seen anyone so mentally ill as the Joker and his crazy girlfriend, Harley Quinn.


	3. Chapter 3

While I was sleeping I was having strange dreams. A particular one kept occurring. I was on the edge of a building and the wind was blowing. I saw my mother walk up to me. She was wearing the long, white night gown she had been when she was murdered. Her neck was laying limp because it had broken when she had been strangled. Her eyes were looking at me; almost through me. Before I could touch her, I would fall off the building. The dream was always cut off before I hit the ground.

I woke up sweating and breathing heavily. Immediately I felt the pain of not only a gunshot wound, but a deep burn. My back was aching from sleeping on the steel medical table and being strapped down for however long I had been asleep. I thought of escaping, but I didn't know where to begin. I didn't think it was possible to while I was still strapped down and in this much pain. I decided to wait until I was off of the table. Then again, I didn't know what they had in store for me so there was no guarantee of that ever happening. Although escaping was out the question, I tried to at least slightly reposition myself, just to help me with the pain. That was also impossible.

I stayed in that room all day, all alone. No one came in and no one went out. I never saw the Joker or his maniacal bride-to-be. I was very anxious. I began assuming that they had abandoned the place and left me with it. It was a very logical thought considering the Joker had planned to raid a drug warehouse, but instead took a hostage. Any was possible with this lunatic. Being his hostage is what most people could never imagine. They probably would have much rather been killed by him than to ever be his prisoner and now I understand why. I never thought the Joker to be much a criminal because of all the evil I've seen. Evidently, I was wrong.

Hours continued to pass by and the pain never subsided, only grew worse. I didn't think I could take much more of the gnawing sensation of the steel digging into my flesh. My legs eventually went to sleep from hanging off the edge of the table, also digging into my flesh, cutting off most of the circulation. I thought this to be just another way to torture me. What's more torturous than leaving someone alone for hours on end strapped to an uncomfortable, steel table, with nothing but a pair of jeans and heavy boots to help the tension on their legs?

Finally, a few of the Joker's henchmen came in pulling in a twin size bed with blankets and pillow made up on it. Then a screen and a projector, as well as full size bed with white blankets and pillows made up on it. Then a few minutes later, Harley came in wearing blue pajamas with teddy bears on them. With her mask and harlequin cap still on, she crawled into the smaller bed and closed her eyes. I took this as a slap in the face.

Look at me all comfy in my bed while you grit your teeth in agony on that table!

Next, the Joker made his way in, dressed in a lady's white night gown, much like the one my mother wore when she was killed. He also wore a blonde wig, similar to what my mother's real hair looked like. One of the thugs flipped on the projector and what started playing was a news broadcast from September, 1997. A brunette woman named Gena Martin who was once a well-known news caster in Gotham was telling the story of my mother's murder. I remember my aunt watching it at least every other day for around two weeks.

"Gotham City woman was murdered yesterday by strangulation in her apartment while her son was sleeping. The police have not caught the perpetrator so far."

I wasn't asleep. I remember the distinct fear of my mother's scream right before it happened. I remember rushing from my bed to her room and seeing her dead eyes roll to the back of her head. I remember a man dressed in black with his face shadowed, ready to jump out of the window, look at me and smile before he took off, never to be seen again. I remember looking back at mother's lifeless body with a tear rolling down my face. I surely wasn't asleep.

That particular hole in my chest was opening up again as the newscast played. That hole that took so long to fill and could only be filled with adrenaline, alcohol, and sometimes cocaine was coming back just as quickly as it had the first time.

"Turn it off!" I yelled.

Once the video had played it switched to newspaper articles concerning the murder. It went on and on, showing everything I tried so hard to block out. It was all coming back to me in a rush of long time angst and depression.

"I said turn it off!" I yelled again.

After the video played, the thug turned off the machine and walked around me. He walked over to the bigger bed and crawled on top of the Joker. Joker started screaming, trying to sound like a woman. He was pretending to be my mom. The thug started acting as if he was choking the Joker and of course after it was over, Harley ran out of the bed to the other bed and started screaming, 'Mommy!' at the top of her lungs. My eyes filled with water as my chest started to burn; not from the wound, from the anger that was filling up inside me.

Since I couldn't move, I simply closed my eyes and tried to block them out. I had proven to be pretty adequate at blocking the things I didn't want to see or hear out of my life. This time, I just couldn't. I could either watch the two reenact that horrible night, or I could close my eyes and see the real thing playing on repeat.

Once the skit was over, Joker got out of the bed and walked over to me.

"How do you feel?" he asked, faking sympathy. I looked directly at the rusting ceiling, doing my best to ignore him. "You aren't angry with me are you? Harley and I just wanted to have a little fun is all. Who doesn't like a good trip down memory lane, to the childhood that made us who we are today?"

"I'm nothing like you," I retorted.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. You and I are much the same. We both come from a long line of…disappointment."

"You don't know me!" I yelled.

"But I do. You're Vincent Everdeen. Twenty-three old, murderer, addict, and thug…kind of like me. I, too, have had my addictions, but I turned myself from an addict of substance to an addict of laughter and ever since then, I've been nothing but smiles!" he grinned happily. "Why don't you join me, Vinny? We could be happy together, don't you think? Maybe we'll get a nice cottage in the woods and have a few kids while we're there!" he laughed. "Whattya say, pal? Partners?"

"What could I possibly do for you? You seem to have everything…under control."

"It may look like that on the outside, but truly, all I've ever wanted is a brother. Someone who I can talk to, cry with, share onion dip recipes."

"You're out of your mind," I said almost under my breath. He began laughing maniacally.

"Ain't that the truth! I like you, Vinny, ol' boy! I think we'll make a fine couple of nuts!" He then took off the blonde wig and threw it on the ground. "I'll give you until morning to think about my proposition. If you choose to accept, I let you off of this table and bring you home with my and Harley," he smiled. Harley and him then walked out for the night, leaving me filled with anger and depression and now a decision. Partner up with the biggest criminal in Gotham City or die refusing to do what I've done all these years anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Morning came slowly enough. The entire night I contemplated what I should do, also if I even had a choice. Just because he said I did, didn't necessarily mean so. Although crime was what I did and what I was exceptionally good at, I had some kind of…guilt…coming to me. I didn't know why. It never happened before. Why should I feel bad about being bad? That's all I've ever been. I knew my condition might have been affecting my mind. Reliving your gruesome childhood isn't really good for the noggin. I made my decision then. Being an ally of the Joker could prove beneficial. The power and fear that comes with it is something far greater than what came of it with Doozie and his group of misfits.

When Joker came in, much later than he said, he was dressed in the purple tuxedo he was known for. Slicked back green hair, ruby red lips, and those evil yellow eyes.

"Whattaya say, Vinny?" he asked with a smile, standing with his white gloved hands behind his back. "Brothers?" One last time I thought of the power, fear, and criminal glory that would come with a positive answer, but the possible shame that could come with the negative.

"Brothers," I said, sealing my fate. The Joker smiled a wide, yellow-toothed smiled. His green, curved brows came together in a most frightening way.

"Let's go home, then. Harley has been cleaning and cooking all day. You can't imagine how excited she'll be when she sees you come through the door." He walked over to me and removed the straps that left a deep, irritated impression in my skin. I rose slowly, in much pain, and tried to keep my balance. The Joker helped me up and I staggered all the way out of the condemned warehouse once and for all.

Outside was a black 1930's limousine. The door was opened for me by one of the thugs, who I suppose was also driving. I slid in to the car that was badly damaged on the inside. The Joker then crawled in, as well.

"Where is your home, anyway?" I asked.

"South of Gotham. It's a very cozy home, filled with memories and love," he smiled. Any place this dude lived, I couldn't imagine love. But to him, mutilating the innocent with an equally loony girl was love. If that's so, the place must be oozing with the stuff.

The car ride was painful and took much too long. My muscles were very stiff and very sore. All I wanted to do was lay in a soft bed with cold covers. I didn't think there would be such a thing in my future and I was corrected. Joker's home was a not a sweet little home for a couple. It was a house shortly outside of Gotham, with broken windows, a grassless front yard, and a desolate surrounding. It was the only home left. Next to it was a pile of junk and down the street a little further was the remains of a demolished home. It was probably once a nice little, quiet neighborhood. But now it was old, run-down, and ugly.

Joker pulled keys from the pocket of his purple slacks and when he slid the key into the lock, it fell off the door.

"They don't make homes like they used to, Vinny. There's always something to be replaced," he said.

He walked in as I staggered through the door. The inside was musty and worn down, much like the outside.

"Honey! I'm home!" he said, playing the role of the typical husband.

"Dinnah is watitin'!" Harley smiled. She was also in the suit she was known for, but she had a fifties house-wife dress worn over it. It was navy blue with white polka-dots. She sat on the small, wooden kitchen table, an overcooked whole chicken and a couple dishes of sides. I sat at the table while my heart pounded.

"I'm so glad ya home, honey," she said to the Joker. She went over to him and kissed him repeatedly with a loud 'mwah' sound after each kiss.

"Now, Harley. Let's be modest around our new house guest," he said.

"Glad to see ya came to ya senses, Vinny. Thought ya nevah would," Harley said. She sat down at the table as Joker started carving the chicken.

"Thank you," is all I could think to say.

I ate quickly and had seconds. Through this entire time it never dawned on me I hadn't eaten in two days. I began any piece of food I could get my hands on.

"Harley sure is the homemaker, isn't she?" Joker said.

"It's so good," I said, still stuffing my face.

Harley took a few bites of her chicken and then pushed her plate away.

"Ahem! I'm full," she said in a girlish voice. "Who wants desert?" she asked.

"That sounds lovely, Snickerdoodle," Joker said. She went to the fridge and pulled a bowl of chocolate pudding out.

"I made puddin'," she said, "for my puddin'."

"What a sweetie," he said. She giggled and put a few scoops in a bowl for him. I finally felt full and passed on the pudding.

"Ah ya sure?" Harley asked. "Theh's plenty."

"No, thank you. I think I'd like to go to bed," I said.

"I'll show ya to ya room," Harley said. She helped me to my room, which was a small room with a simple rod iron bed with a thin blanket covering it. "Down tha' hall is tha' bathroom. Jokah and I will be just across the hall if ya needin' anything."

"Thanks," I said. I laid down on the bed. It was hard, nothing like what I was dreaming of in the car.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

"Fine. Thank you."

"Get some rest. Ya goin' golfin' tomorrah with mistah J." She walked out and shut the door. I let out a sigh, partly of relief, partly of disappointment. How in the world was I supposed to go out in my condition? I knew if I said no to him, he'd probably cut my throat or something.

I fell asleep easily, even with the uncomfortable bed. I woke up, though, having trouble breathing and with a sharp pain in my chest. My heart started racing and my muscles were stiffening again. I called out for help sheepishly because the pain seemed to grip my vocal chords. Thankfully, they heard me and came in the room.

"What's the matter, my boy?" Joker asked.

"I…I can't…breathe," I stammered.

"Should we get a doctah?" Harley asked.

"Yes," I managed. "Get…a doctor. Quickly!" The room was turning blurry. Voices were becoming muffled. I thought I was dying. Before I knew it the room turned black and every noise was silenced.


	5. Chapter 5

When death grips you, you don't really know what to do. When you black out, people say you see the other side. Heaven, hell, angels, or demons. I've heard people say they saw dead family members welcoming them into the light before they were pulled back into the physical world. Others say the very fire of hell was searing their faces before they were brought back. What I saw, was pure blackness. Void. Nothing. It was like sleeping without dreaming. You know who you are, but there's nothing around you. I was a little fearful in this endless black hole. I felt alone and empty and nothing about my surroundings made any sense. It reminded me of my childhood, sadly enough.

When my eyes opened, I saw more darkness, but something was illuminating…stone. Like mountains above me. Like I was inside in the mountain. When I looked around, I saw rock walls, a lamp, an IV hooked into my arm, and a heart monitor beeping.

What kind of hospital is this? I thought.

I heard what sounded like rocks moving. The rock wall to the right of me was opening and an elderly man with a thin, neat white mustache walked in. He was wearing a black suit and he didn't look like a doctor to me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Not to fear," he said in a British accent. "I've been nursing you back to health. You seemed to have an infected bullet-hole wound in your chest and a severe case of food poisoning."

"That's what was happening? Is that why I couldn't breathe?"

"The reason for your difficult breathing was because of a bacterial infection from your wound had spread to your blood. It looks like whoever was working on that wound did not use sterilized utensils. I gave you an antibiotic to kill the infection. You'll notice your skin is much paler, that's a normal side effect from the medication. I've also stitched you're wound to keep and clean and help the healing process. I'm sure you were feeling intense pain throughout your body, also caused from the infection, but any intestinal discomfort was from spoiled food."

I remembered eating over cooked chicken and…coleslaw. I hate coleslaw, but I was starving. I was eating so quickly I didn't really taste anything.

"What happened to the Joker?"

"He's been committed to Arkham Asylum."

"So he's gone?"

"For now. The Joker is quite the escape artist. Although, I find it strange that every time he is committed, he makes his way out. I would assume he would be under close watch due to his unstable condition," he said.

"I know I already asked you, but who exactly are you?"

"I'm not allowed to disclose that information, mister Everdeen. Just know I am able to perform medical procedures and I always used sterilized utensils."

"Where am I?"

"A secluded and very safe area. Not many people know the whereabouts of this place and those very few people are trustworthy and honest. You're in no danger, sir."

I then realized my head starting to hurt. My body was aching all over, but I was lying on a decent hospital bed and I wasn't strapped down. Wherever I was, I'd much rather be there than anywhere with the Joker.

"You'll be able to eat in about three hours. Until then, I suggest you sleep and then sleep some more. Your body is exhausted as I'm sure you can feel," he said.

"When can I leave?" I questioned.

"You're going to be here for quite some time," he explained. "I wouldn't feel comfortable releasing you until that infection is completely cleared and your wound is almost completely healed. Being shot isn't something to take lightly. It's amazing your still alive, to be honest. Perhaps, in a month or so."

"A month?" I asked in shock. "I can't be here in a month…I have things to take care of." I still had to tell Doozie what was up. I knew I would get paid a good chunk of money.

"I'm afraid whatever it is will have to wait. Get some sleep and I'll be back later with a hot meal."

"You really aren't understanding," I said. "I have a job. I could lose it if I don't report back within the week. There's a lot of money at stake, a rent payment. I have to go." I then sat up fighting the pain that came with it and tried to get off of the bed.

"Mister Everdeen, please," he said. "You mustn't be up."

"I have to go. I need my clothes back." I was dressed in one of those polka-dotted hospital gowns.

As the elderly man fought me to get back in the bed when the wall opened again and walked through…Robin. The Boy Wonder. I stopped struggling with the old man and just stared at the…kid. He was just a kid. I thought he at least be graduated from high school.

"Where the hell am I?" I asked again.

"Please, sir. Lie back down and I'll explain everything," the old man said. I met him half way and sat on the edge of the bed. "You must understand my position. I've sworn all secrecy to someone very important. I can't reveal much."

"You're just another freak, huh? Like Joker. You're just keeping here for only God knows why!"

"Hey, bro, chill out," Robin said. "He's just following orders."

"And you!" I said. "What are you even doing here? Where am I!"

"I'll tell you where you're at," a growly voice said from behind me. I looked back and saw a shadow coming forth. "You're a thousand feet underground where no one can find you. That's Robin, the man is Alfred, an uncertified medical doctor, and I'm Batman," he said. Then he revealed himself from the shadows and he was in the suit, with the cape. The whole bit. My jaw dropped uncontrollably.

"You're…You're…Batman…" I said.

"Observant," Robin smiled.

"The Joker poisoned you and was going to kill you," Batman began with his arms in his cape. He was slightly crouched over. He seemed almost inhuman. "I heard you were captured. I started tracking Joker and found his place outside of Gotham. When I arrived you were blacked out on a bed and Joker and Harley were about to leave. They were going to leave you, as well…to die."

"So…you saved me? You brought me here?"

"Ahem! We brought you here," Robin interrupted.

"Until the infection in your blood is wiped out, you'll be kept here. Afterwards, you'll be released to a drug rehabilitation facility where I'll be monitoring you and if you pick up any drug or gang activity after they release you to post-rehab living facility, I'll bring you back here again until you show drastic improvement," Batman explained.

"I don't do drugs," I lied. "There's no reason for the rehab."

"I've already taken blood tests. There was a moderate amount of cocaine in your system. I don't know how long you were with Joker, so it's safe to assume you did a lot before being captured," he said in an un-amused tone.

"What am I supposed to do here for a month? He said I'd be here a month."

"You'll lie down and shut up. You'll do whatever Alfred asks of you without struggle or I'll be forced to intervene." I looked at the old man.

"You can't keep me here!" I yelled turning back around, but he was gone. "…where'd-"

"He does that," Robin said.

"Quite often, in fact," Alfred continued.


	6. Chapter 6

"Don't worry," Robin told me. "He's like that to everybody." I took a deep breath and sighed it out. I felt hopeless in a way. If I wasn't stuck with a psychopathic killer, I was stuck with the biggest jerk in Gotham City…who dressed like a bat.

This town is full of nutcases.

I spent the night sleeping hard after the old man, Alfred, pumped me with antibiotics and sleep-aids. I slept so hard, I didn't even dream. What a blessing that was.

When I woke the next morning, though, I couldn't tell if it really was morning due to this…cave…room. Whatever.. I felt groggy, but better. I noticed less pain and a more relaxed feeling in my muscles. I assumed it was better here, but I still wanted to be left alone in my own bed.

By the time I was alert and could actually form a sentence, the little bird boy came in. He was a small kid. He couldn't have been older than thirteen. He probably got roughed up in school for his size. Boys don't like the petite boys who can't help but to develop behind everyone else. I was that boy once, too.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked, in his not yet fully matured voice.

"Hard," I replied.

"Probably from all those meds Alfred's got you on."

"That's what I figured. What are you doing in here?" I asked. He was playing around on the computer that was on the tall desk next to my bed. On top of it also sat medication bottles, a syringe box, and a box of gloves.

"Alfred asked me to check your vitals and everything. He wants to make sure your blood is okay from that infection," he replied.

"Why doesn't he come do it?"

"Alfred's a busy man, bro!" he said loudly. "He can't be a butler, chef, and doctor all at once."

"Batman has a butler?" I asked.

"I know, right?" the kid smiled. So not only was he a weirdo, he was a wealthy weirdo? Wealthy enough for a butler? You have to be kidding me.

"How old are you anyway? Thirteen?"

"No way, bro!" he shouted again. "I can't tell you how old I am, but I will say that the eighth grade isn't as hard as everyone made it seem." I chuckled. To be the secretive Batman's sidekick, he wasn't too secretive. I guess he was still learning.

"So you make good grades then?"

"Well, that's not what I was referring to, but not bad, yeah."

"What were you referring to then?" I asked.

"The atmosphere. People have more respect for me since I learned how to fight. Before, I was just the dork who couldn't protect himself."

"I know that feeling," I said. "I used to get beat all the time in school."

"Who taught you how to fight?" he asked.

"I did. I got tired of being pushed around. Finally started pushing back."

"Your blood looks okay," he said.

"How do you know? You haven't taken any of my blood."

"You see that pink tube in your arm?" he asked. There was a pink tube running from a little machine into my arm, next to my IV. "There's a very little device in the needle that absorbs and then ejects your blood back and forth. It's saying the infection is mild. Before, it was severe."

"Does that mean I won't have to be stuck here for a whole month?"

"Doubt it. Alfred is really thorough. He won't let you out until he has to." I sighed. "It won't be bad here though. I spend all my extra time down here, too. I don't really have to, either."

"So tell me this, kid," I began. "What's a thirteen year old boy doing underground all the time, dressing up in a Christmas colored suit, fighting bad guys?"

"These are robin colors okay, bro! I didn't say I was thirteen, I said I was in the eighth grade. Who knows? I could've flunked; maybe I'm even thirty…? And I fight bad guys because no one else will. Just like when everyone was picking on me in school, no one ever helped me. No one stood up and did what was right. So I'm that person out in the city. I stand up for those who can't or can't find anybody who can." The kid talked passionately about what he did. He knew he was doing the right thing and he was proud of it. He seemed like a good kid. I just couldn't imagine him taking bad guys like me down. How is it he's not in this bed right now with a gun-shot wound?

"So you just went up to Batman one day and asked for a suit and he gave you one?"

"No," he said, sounding a little darker. He turned back to the computer and started typing something. "My parents were killed when I was eight…Batman was the only one to stand up for me…that's why I'm alive right now." I felt bad for asking him. Talking about his parent's death obviously darkened that hyperactive boy inside him. I could relate to him, though. I knew all about losing parents.

"My parents were killed, too. Within a few years of each other," I said.

"Mine died the same night by a gangbanger…like you," he said looking over at me. His mask covered his eyes with a white sheet, but he was looking at me. Even though I couldn't see his eyes, I felt them penetrate me. This poor kid had a child hood like mine because of someone like me. If ever I felt like apologizing to anyone for what I've done, it was now.

"I'm sorry…Robin. People like me…we didn't have a choice, really."

"That's a bunch of crap," he replied. "I could've been just like you, but I'm not. I'm much better because I tried to be. You just didn't try."

"That's brutal…but it's right. I guess I didn't wanna try anymore. It's tough staying positive when everything around you is so negative all the time."

Robin didn't reply to me then. He just kept typing. In hopes to bring out that rambunctious rascal out of him again, I started to question him. He seemed hesitant to answer them, but that didn't stop me.

"If I'm stuck here for a good month, I'd at least like to know the people I'll be with," I explained. "I mean, you probably know everything about me already, huh?"

"Sort of," he answered finally.

"Right. So, do you have a girlfriend? I bet the girls are beating down doors to be the Boy Wonder's girl right?" I smiled. He chuckled. I could see his stature relax again.

"I wish. I don't have a girlfriend, but I will."

"So then you like a girl?"

"Yeah. Her name is Barbara. She's in my math class. But she's like a genius, bro. Colleges are already asking her to come check them out. I don't think she likes me, to be honest." I then remembered having a junior high crush and feeling literally crushed after it was all said and done. I wish I would've felt more of that pain than the pain I had actually felt throughout that time.

"What's she look like?"

"Red hair, blue eyes. Athletic, smart, talented...perfect." The last part he said under his breath, but I still heard it.

"My ex-girlfriend was read headed. She was pretty cool, too. Real pretty."

"What happened?" he asked.

"She, uh…she was murdered."

"Ah, bro, I'm so sorry," he said. "That's awful."

"Things happen, ya know?" I remembered Ginger's hair being the prettiest red color. Her eyes were crystal blue and her skin was light and un-freckled. Something that's rare for a natural red head. For some reason, even after blocking out as much pain as I could, I felt it creep up again with even a hint of a depression. I hadn't thought about her for a while. I didn't want to. "Does this Barbara know that you're Robin?" I continued on, trying to force out of these underlying emotions.

"No way. I'm not allowed to go around telling people. If I could, I totally would tell her. I think that's the only way I could impress her."

"You must have something else impressive about you. You must be athletic, too, if you're beating up guys twice your age. I bet you solve crimes sometimes even. That must mean you're pretty smart."

"It's not like that. I'm still learning all this stuff, so I'm not the best yet."

"You don't have to the best. You just have to be good. Since the Batman seems to be sort of bummer, I doubt he's taught you anything about girls."

"Ain't that the truth," he said with a hint of bitterness.

"I bet by the time I leave here, you'll know so much about girls, you'll have two girlfriends." The look on his face was priceless. His mouth was perched open a little bit as he stared at me in silence.

"Bro!" he said with the same expression on his face. I had just become this kid's new mentor. Maybe even his hero. After all, what's a teenaged boy's biggest obsession and fear? Girls.

I had a feeling we'd be spending a lot of time together during my stay.


	7. Chapter 7

Once Robin got everything figured out, he left to do a mission for the Bat. I figured it would do me some good to take a nap. Even though I had just woken up, I wanted to be out of here and the only way for my body to heal was if it was rested.

However, I became restless. The one time I wanted to relax, naturally was the one time I couldn't. With all of these tubes in my arm, I was practically restrained to this hospital bed.

In all my restlessness, I began thinking. The whole reason I was in this place was because of Doozie, the gang leader. I was on a mission for him and I never returned. I wondered what he thought of me and if he had ever let Jimmy, the one he suspected to be betraying him, off the hook, or even replaced me with him.

Then, the Joker. Everything happened so quickly, I doubted he was done with me. But this led me to wonder something else. Why go through all the trouble of keeping me alive while holding me hostage just to poison me with spoiled food? I couldn't wrap my mind around a conclusion to that. I knew the Joker was insane, but he surely wasn't stupid. There must've been some reason for all of this- for keeping me alive, for taking me to his home. I mean, he revealed his hide out to a victim. The only thing to do after that is poison me, I suppose. That's what he did after all. Even so, it still boggled my mind.

Robin came across my mind as well. He was just a kid, fighting bad guys all while trying to impress the girl he likes. To be so abnormal he sure was…normal. It seems his life was a lot like mine, filled with tragedy and mishap. But he still had normal teenaged boy worries. I wish I could've done what he had; made something of all those tragedies and mishaps, rather than recreate them for other people who were innocent like I was at one point.

And then, of course, Ginger. The girl I might've married if things would have played out right. I never knew I had so many underlying feelings for her until a while after her death. It's weird how death works. At one point they're here and then the next, they no longer exist. Yet the universe still goes on like it was when they were still a part of it. I hate death so much, I tried to ignore it. All the while, I had no idea that no matter how much I ignore the fact that my parents and my girl no longer are a part of this world, that doesn't make it any less real. I'm no less incomplete ignoring their deaths. I'm just as alone as I would've been had I accepted it. I even believed ignoring it was accepting it. How foolish of me.

"Wake up," I heard. I opened my eyes, never realizing they were closed and saw the old butler, Alfred. "I need to do a few tests, Master Vincent."

"Did I fall asleep?"

"It appears so," he replied. "If you don't mind, slipping this under your tongue." I let him put a thermometer under my tongue. After a few seconds it beeped and he removed it. He looked at the screen and then wrote something down on a sheet of paper inside a file.

"Everything okay?" I questioned.

"Your temperature is a couple degrees below normal. Shall I fetch some more blankets, sir?" he asked.

"Oh, no. I've always had a low temperature," I explained. "I've never known why."

"But it is normal, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Alfred then jotted something else down.

"When you first arrived I took your temperature and it was low then like it is now. I was afraid you were dying," he said.

"It worried some doctors when I was very small, but every test always came back normal. I guess I'm just cold blooded," I smirked. He did the same, not realizing how true a statement I had just made.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take a swab of your cheek."

"I don't mind," I said. "What for?"

"The infection was in your blood and I want to make sure it doesn't appear in your saliva. Master Robin said your blood was looking very healthy when he checked it a few hours ago, though."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he said, pulling a large Q-tip from a plastic container.

"How come you call everyone master?"

"Well," he began, "I am a servant. It's very respectful and it shows I understand my position. Open your mouth, please."

"How long have you been Batman's servant?"

"Quite some time now. I couldn't imagine serving anyone else at this point," he spoke, swabbing my cheek and then sealing it in a plastic bag. "This will only take an hour or so. I'll be back shortly with some fresh linens for you."

"Thank you," I said. Alfred left, and when he did, I noticed him pull a particular rock that seamlessly formed into the wall. After it shut though, I lost where it was at. However, I knew the general area. I decided while everyone was asleep or out tonight, I would finally find out where I was and then, if lucky enough, find a way out.


	8. Chapter 8

Of course, things never go as I plan. I pulled for half an hour on to anything that seemed to poke out from the wall, but it was no good. My hands had become sore and I was getting frustrated. There's nothing like being stuck in a room for only God knows how long. I just wanted to see some sunlight. Just hear the sound of car horns honking and sirens going off every few minutes. I never thought I'd miss the sound of Gotham City.

I thought I heard someone coming, so I quickly jumped back into bed, reeling my IV stand with me. It was the kid, Robin. He stomped in from the other side of the room and started unhooking my plugs.

"What's the matter?" I asked. He kept mumbling under his breath. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said shortly. He started pulling out the needles in my arm.

"What's going on?"

"I'm letting you go," he replied.

"Are you serious?" I said anxiously. "I can leave."

"I'm going to take you to rehabilitate you, myself."

"So the Batman said I could go?" I asked, beginning to follow him. This was the same wall he had come from and we were going that way out. He pulled a rock like Alfred had, but I don't know how he did it.

"Not exactly," Robin replied as we began walking down a very long tunnel, lit dimly with small lights built into the rock walls.

"He doesn't know? You're doing this without the Bat's permission?"

"Yes, I am. Just because he's Batman doesn't mean he can boss me around. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Listen, ki- Robin. He's a little bit older than you and little bit bigger than me. If you let me go without his permission, he might try and find me and bring me back. So are you sure it's okay to do this. I'm not coming back here. I have things to do."

"He's given me access to this place and I'm using it. There's nothing wrong about that. Nothing he can reprimand me for."

"Alright, then." I said. I had found my way out. I guess this is what I wanted so I decided not to try and turn the kid around. At the end of the tunnel was a steel wall with a key pad. Robin pressed a few buttons and it slid open, revealing…another tunnel just like the one before it.

"He likes hall ways, huh?" We kept walking and behind the next steel door a huge room with a massive computer and…the car, the batmobile. "This is…this is it, huh? This is where he works."

"Get in the batmobile," he said, pulling a clicker from his utility belt. He pressed a button and the top of the sleek car slid back, revealing a very futuristic design inside. Nothing except buttons and knobs all over the place, little computer monitors. I got into the passenger seat and the kid jumped in next to me. The top slid back down and the car rushed forward, faster than a bullet it felt like. My body ached when I hit the seat.

"You're not even old enough to drive, are you?" I asked with some fear showing through my voice.

"Please," he said. "I don't think there's a license out there to drive one of these."

"You have a point there, I guess. Wait! You're like fourteen! You can't drive anything!"

"Sorry," Robin said.

"You should be!" I looked over and he sprayed some kind of fog in my face. My eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each and I passed out just a few seconds later.

When I woke up I was in my apartment. It startled me and I jumped up from my couch and fell to my knees, grabbing the small coffee table for support.

"Slow down," Robin spoke. "I had to spray you with…knock out gas, basically."

"What for?" I asked, trying to get back to my feet.

"I couldn't risk the security of the Bat cave."

"Bat cave? He's a maniac," I grumbled.

"I've removed all the illegal drugs from the premises. I'll leave you here tonight, but I'm coming back, so nothing sketchy, alright?"

"Why are you doing this? Letting me go without his permission? Are you rebelling or are you just trusting me?"

"Both. I do trust you, though. I don't want to regret that."

"Why would ever trust a guy like me, Robin?"

"I can see that there's some good in you. You lost your way, took the wrong road. It happens to the best of us."

"I'm sorry, kid, but saying there's some good is me is like saying the Batman is…Bruce Wayne, or something. It isn't possible in any universe."

"I'll agree that a twit like Wayne could never be the jerk I know," he said. "But as for you, I think that you've been lost for so long you can't see what good is left in you. Even if it's just a little bit."

"I don't think it's true, kid." He then leaped on my and held to the floor by my neck and had what the people down in this part of Gotham call, a bat-a-rang. He held it up in his fist as if he were to punch me in the face with it.

"I know that you can do better," he growled. "So don't make me look like any idiot to the Bat and do something different! Show him you're different! So help me, God…" he said pulling my head back and up throwing it down to the floor again, "…if you make look like an idiot I'll-"

"I'm not afraid of death, kid. You can't threaten my life." His gripped loosened. "But for you, I'll try a little harder to stay out of trouble, if that's what you're asking me to do. It seems you're trying to prove something to Batman and to yourself, as well. Also, I think you have some issues to work out with him. So why don't you go, and I'll stay out of trouble until you get back tomorrow night. Sound fair?"

He let me up and walked to my front door. He acted as if he was going to say something to me, but just continued his way out. I felt free in a sense and trapped in another. On the bright side, I could put on some regular clothes and sleep in my own bed.


	9. Chapter 9

After sleeping like a prince in his castle, except for a few terrifying Joker nightmares, I decided to find out what happened with the drug house after I was kidnapped. I promised Robin I would avoid trouble, not find out about others trouble.

Doozie's house was rundown and filthy. Sometimes drug ring leaders are rich so they live in big houses and have nice cars. According to Doozie, this was just a cover so the cops wouldn't get suspicious, but I suspect he spends all his drug money on beer, which would explain his beer gut.

I knocked on the wooden door that looked as if it had been splitting for around twenty years. Doozie answered the door slowly, creaking the door open and peeking through the crack. With his job, you never know when someone's coming to take you out.

"Vince!" he shouted, opening the door completely. "You're alive! We thought you were a goner!"

"Almost," I replied.

"What happened? Oh, come in, man, come in." That was supposed to be a nice gesture, but with the condition of his place it was hard to consider it that. The inside had stained walls, with holes through out. Dirty carpet with a few beer cans on the floor. Some smashed, other just tossed to the side. The coffee table was covered in papers and paper plates and beer cans. A nasty couch sat behind it with torn upholstery and stains. The house reeked of mold, beer, sweat, and only God knows what else. It was safe to safe Doozie's living conditions were revolting. "So what happened that night? Nobody knew nothin'. It was like ya just disappeared."

"I don't know if you know, but Jimmy had nothing to do with the missing drugs," I said, avoiding questions after sheepishly taking a seat with him on the couch.

"How do ya know?"

"That night I saw the Joker stealing from the stash. It was his whole gang, no one from yours."

"Well, Vince. Wish I woulda heard that sooner," he said.

"Why, what happened?"

"I let Jimmy go." I knew what that meant. Jimmy's probably at the bottom of a lake. "Glad you're alright, though, man. Things ain't been the same since ya went off. I been losin' around fifty grand a week. I couldn't pin point the thief, so I been lettin' men go left and right. I woulda never guessed it was that clown creep. What does he want with my stash anyways?"

"Joker's a pretty unpredictable guy. I don't have an answer."

"I was hopin' you knew more than that."

"I don't, man."

"Well, I gotta another job for ya," he said coming off of his couch and walking to a small table. He opened the drawer and started rummaging through it. "Gotham Docks." He threw a picture to me. "Find this creep. Take him out." The picture was of a typical Gotham criminal. Scarred, tired face. He also had tattoos on his chest and neck and thin hair that had been greased back. This looked like a mugshot.

"What's his problem?" I asked.

"His name is Robert Spidds. Carmine Falconey is his boss. Carmine and me don't see eye to eye, but we made an agreement. He stays away from me and I don't blow his head off. Here lately, this guy's been givin' some of the guys trouble. He cut up Martinez a few nights ago. Every time I send someone to get some dirt from him, he chops 'em up. I been findin' bits and pieces of my guys all around the city. You're the only one I got left, Vince."

"You just want me to kill him? You don't want to know anything?"

"He ain't gonna spill nothin'. If you get somethin' outta him, great. Just make sure he's done for after which. Got it?"

"I'll let you know tonight," I said heading for the door.

"Hey, you be careful. I better see's ya tonight," Doozie said.

"No promises," I smirked, and then left his house.

I returned to my apartment and Robin came at around midnight. I was in my bedroom when I heard him knock on the window. I opened the window and leaned on the window seal. He clung to the brick wall from his grapple cord.

"I have something you might be interested in," I told him, pulling the same picture Doozie gave me from the pocket of my leather jacket. "His name is Robert Spidds. He works for Falconey."

"I know who he is," Robin replied. "He set his girlfriend on fire when he was younger and served some time. Not enough in my opinion."

"I don't know about his past, but my boss wants me to kill him."

"You're already back in your gang?" he asked.

"I just wanted to know about what happened with drug house problem. I was sent to see who was stealing from my boss when the Joker kidnapped me."

"How did the Joker get a hold of you there?"

"The Bat didn't figure it out?"

"He heard on the street you had been kidnapped, he never knew why. Joker's spontaneous, you know?"

"Joker was having his men take drugs from my boss's warehouse," I said.

"Since when does the Joker have an addiction?" he questioned.

"I don't know, man. What do you want me to do about Spidds? If I don't kill him, I have to give my boss a good reason why."

"What's the whole mission?" he asked.

"Kill him. If I get any information out of him, still kill. He wants him dead. He's been screwing around with my gang."

"What will happen after you tell your boss?"

"Depends. If the guy has anything good, we may find out who's taking my boss's drugs. If not, then there's one less nuisance."

"I'll go with you, which is…?"

" To the docks," I answered.

"Get what you need from him and I'll take care of everything else."

"You're going to help me fulfill a gang mission?"

"I'm gonna figure out what's happening on the docks, have a few criminals put behind bars and possibly shut down some drug trafficking. You're mission is the least of my problems right now and if you're helping me out, too, I suppose you're doing better than what you were."

"Are you sure you can handle this guy?"

"Oh, please," he scoffed adjusting his cord and beginning to climb the wall. He reminded me more of a monkey than a bird. "I knocked out Bane once."

"Bane? That guy that nearly blew up the city a few years back?" I asked, looking up at him as he ascended above my window.

"That's the one."

"You didn't knock him out, did you?" I teased.

"I sure as hell came close," he smirked at me.

"Meet me there at three a.m. got it?"

"You meet **_me_** at three a.m. Vince," Robin teased back.

Damn kid.


End file.
